


Let me tell you a story

by padme83



Category: The Starless Sea - Erin Morgenstern
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Dorian - Freeform, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, New Beginning, Spoilers, erin morgestern, the starless sea, zachary ezra rawlins - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padme83/pseuds/padme83
Summary: In his dreams, Dorian sometimes(often)still holds a sword.[Zachary Ezra Rawlins\\Dorian]!SPOILER ALERT!
Relationships: Dorian/Zachary Ezra Rawlins
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. This is home

_But that's not where their story ends._

_Their story is only just beginning._

_And no story really ends as long as there is someone to tell it._

(Erin Morgenstern – The starless sea)

**Prompt:** “I just need to hold on to you forever”

  
  
  


_“I believe you now,  
I've come too far.  
No I can't go back,  
back to how it was._

_Created for a place_

_I've never known”_

In his dreams, Dorian sometimes _(often)_ still holds a sword.

He feels it _real_ in his hands, more concrete – _almost_ – than the body which rests peacefully by his side, unaware of the dismay that contracts his muscles in violent spasms.

When, with an inhuman effort, he finally manages to free himself from the nightmare, Dorian opens his eyes wide and looks at the ceiling in terror. He feels his legs tense under a tangle of sticky bed sheets, his throat throbbing and tightening, his heart going mad in his chest.

Usually – _if he's lucky_ – a few minutes are enough for him to return to himself, and realize that no, _no_ , he is not on the shores of a sea foaming with fury, with his clothes stained with honey and blood and his soul in tatter, prey to a black, _devouring_ pain – a pain impossible to imagine, to accept, _to tell_.

This night too, hidden in the half-light, Dorian winces and trembles.

The familiar contours of his bedroom, barely illuminated by the soft light of a lamp, slowly take shape in front of his blurred gaze. A long, low sigh escapes his lips.

Dorian turns on the pillow and Zachary’s there – _he’s there and he’s safe, he’s safe for God, safe and warm and wonderful._

He has to focus on this.

_Zachary - is - alive._

The boy wakes up, suddenly – but Dorian is not at all surprised of it –, he raises his eyelids and looks at him, he scrutinizes him intensely, with his shining, unfathomable irises, lit by the sun and burnished gold. Zachary searches for Dorian's fingers to tie them to his and begins to move slowly beside him, silent and sensual as a cat. He approaches and presses himself against him, he kisses his forehead and a cheekbone, with immense tenderness, he envelops and draws Dorian to himself with an intimate, confident, imperious and delicate movement. He doesn't say a word. It is not necessary.

_Because Zachary always understands._

_Zachary reads inside of him._

His skin is soft, welcoming and irresistible and Dorian abandons himself, he sinks into a solid grip that smells of salvation, of communion, of belonging _._

_It smells of home._

«I just need to hold on to you» he whispers, «forever».

After a whole life spent fighting, alone, devoid of bonds and sincere affection and far from the truth - _excluded from love_ -, Dorian rediscovers himself and, for a single instant, he’s again able of praying.

«Your place is here, my love».

Zachary's beautiful mouth opens up into a winking, radiant, sweet – oh so, so, _so_ sweet – smile.

«Your home is in my arms».

_“This is home,_ _  
now I'm finally back to_

_where I belong,_ _  
where I belong.  
Yeah, this is home  
I've been searching _

_for a place of my own,_ _  
now I've found it,  
maybe this is home.  
This is home.”_

**NoA:**

Hi!

I hope you liked this little story ^^

I’m totally in love with Zachary and Dorian and I would like to write something else about them, but in Italy still few people have read the book.

I hope I haven't made a mess, english is not my primary language.

Thanks to all the readers <3

Bye!

_Soundtrack:_ **This is home, Switchfoot (The Chronicle of Narnia, Prince Caspian OST).**

Follow me on **[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/padme83_efp/?fbclid=IwAR0z-yb-gDtK6yNKDXaaE26e6JMint_E_OsVJLqZupYxMq5jcKzxGy-6YOk)!**


	2. We're simply meant to be

_“My dearest friend, if you don't mind,_

_I'd like to join you by your side,_

_where we could gaze into the stars..."_

_Zachary is beautiful tonight._

He has just come out of the shower, relaxed, peaceful, and his hair is glued to his face, his dark skin is wet and glowing, and around his hips there's nothing but a skimpy towel.

Dorian can't take his eyes off him.

He watches him as he moves from room to room, torn between the unstoppable instinct to grab him and drag him onto the bed and the impatience to _finally_ sit down at the table – he has been struggling for the whole afternoon among pots and stoves, and now he's really curious to find out if the result was worth the effort. Usually he gets along pretty well in the kitchen, and there is nothing that gives him more satisfaction ( _apart from sex_ , of course) than enjoying the sight of Zachary intent on eating the dishes he prepares, even if there’s _always_ a certain percentage of risk in suddenly preparing an unknown and so complex recipe. And Dorian – himself admits it – does not like to risk.

«Are you sure you don't want to go out? We still have time to go somewhere, there are Halloween parties on every street corner».

Zachary approaches him, grinning, «I would already know what mask to wear», and Dorian can't help but draw him to himself and sink his fingers into his unruly and damp curls. The lights of Manhattan pour in streams through the large windows – an indescribable spectacle, capable of surprising and enchanting and moving every time.

_It almost seems like a dream, an illusion, as if they were both on the set of a movie or a TV series – or inside the vivid and terribly realistic representation of a Mirabel story – and not in the small apartment where, together, they have chosen to start a new life, a different story._

_(In_ this _world – their world –, away from the Harbor and the Starless Sea.)_

«Very sure, indeed. There’s really nothing that tempts me more right now, I just want to throw myself on the sofa with you and watch _Nightmare before Christmas_ , preferably wrapped in a soft and warm plaid, after having stuffed ourselves with the pumpkin ravioli that I have cooked especially for the occasion».

Zachary's smile is a shocking, _mystical_ experience, Dorian has no doubt about it, and seeing that priceless miracle on the face of the boy he loves makes his heart explode – with thoughts and soul and _everything_ –, it tears him apart, it shatters him in a whirlwind of dazzling and uncontrolled emotions.

«Pumpkin ravioli, seriously? My mother often made them for me in autumn, I loved them!»

«I know», Dorian's reply is a warm breath on Zachary's inviting and velvety and _perfect_ lips.

«Who do you think spent three full hours on the phone with Mrs Rawlins today?»

_"...and sit together now and forever,_

_for it is plain as anyone could see,_

_we're simply meant to be."_  
  
  
  
  


**NoA:**

Hi everyone!

I wrote this little story last week, for a challenge on facebook, but I only managed to translate it now. I hope you liked it 😊

**Prompt:** pumpkin ravioli.

_Soundtrack:_ **Jack and Sally’s song, Nightmare before Christmas OST.**

Follow me on[ **Instagram**](https://www.instagram.com/p/CG2HRGeH3i6/)!


	3. A white Christmas

_"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas_   
_just like the ones I used to know,_   
_where the tree tops glisten_   
_and children listen,_   
_to hear sleigh bells in the snow, oh, the snow."_   
  
  
  


  
  


«Zachary, _Zachary!_ What in the world are you up to? Close that window immediately, it's freezing outside!»

«Stop mumbling, Dorian, and come with me to the balcony!»

Dorian snorts with exaggerated theatricality at the unusual request; he has not the slightest intention of leaving the couch and the comfortable warmth of the living room to indulge his crazy boyfriend in another one of his wacky ideas.

However, his reluctance does not discourage the boy from approaching him with a grin that was as mischievous as it was suspicious.

«Come on, honey, don't make me beg you. Trust me,» Zachary insists, winking, «I might surprise you».

The light pressure of Zachary's hand on his shoulder is enough to cause Dorian to be deeply disturbed, as always happens in those moments when the search - _the need_ \- for any physical contact, on the part of both of them, brings them to be so terribly, _wonderfully_ close.

With an almost involuntary gesture, the man gets up, shaking off the plaid and a few crumbs (Mrs Rawlins' orange and cinnamon cookies have proved, as usual, a real bomb), and meekly lets himself be led towards the french windows, unable to feel anything other than Zachary's warmth and his strong and resolute fingers, tenderly entwined with his own.

Once they reach the tiny terrace, overlooking the illuminated rooftops of Manhattan, Zachary looks up at the sky, and begins to inhale and exhale slowly, while an ecstatic expression emerges on his face, making him even more charming and seductive than he already is.

«It's going to snow».

«Oh yeah? And what do you deduce that from?»

«The weather forecast on the last _app_ I downloaded is never wrong, it's accurate to the second».

Dorian can't figure out what makes him laugh more, whether Zachary's serious grimace _(but how adorable is his furrowed brow?)_ or the absolute conviction with which he uttered these words.

«Well, you know how I feel about your inordinate faith in technology, but apparently this time your _app-or-what's-his-name_ is right, since it's actually starting to snow».

The brief squeak of joy that bursts from Zachary's lips seems to Dorian like the ring of a thousand silver bells, and when, within minutes, they find themselves surrounded by a whirlwind of mother-of-pearl flakes, he can't help but notice how the glittering ice gems enhance the natural glow of the young man's skin, enveloping him in a luminous, _magical_ halo.

Even his mouth, posed now in the most bewitching smile Dorian has ever seen, stands out impudently on his face, and invites to be laid on it a passionate trail of little kisses, eager to taste again his flavor, sweet and irresistible as the juice of red berries.

«It was snowing that night, too, remember?»

«And how could I forget?»

Dorian cancels the distances and draws Zachary to himself, making the boy's back cling to his chest; he rests his hands on top of Zachary hips, breathing in the scent of his hair softly, and takes a light bite on the soft skin of his neck.

«This is our first Christmas together». Zachary's voice is little more than a whisper, a low, persuasive whisper bathed in the unreal stillness of the evening. «And it's going to be _a white Christmas_ ».

«For me it could be of any color, blue, green and even pink, like Mirabel's hair,» Dorian replies, chuckling, and meanwhile he leans down and searches for Zachary's lips, captures them, torments them for a very long time and finally engages them in a slow, intense, longed-for kiss. «The important thing is to be here, _now_ , with you».

_«Are you happy, Dorian?»_

_«More than you can imagine, my love»._

  
  


_"I said, I'm dreaming of a white Christmas_   
_with every Christmas card I write,_   
_may your days be merry and bright_   
_and may all your Christmas' be white."_

  
  
  
  


**NoA:**

Hi everyone!

I wrote this little story for Christmas, but I only managed to translate it now, sorry.

Anyway, I hope you liked it 😊

Help me to improve, if you don't understand something, please tell me.

Thanks to all the readers!

Bye <3

_Soundtrack:_ **A white Christmas, Michael Bublé.**

Follow me on[ **Instagram**](https://www.instagram.com/p/CJmLT62nxIP/)!


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